


An Army of Ivarssons

by pokeasleepingsmaug



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Manpain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokeasleepingsmaug/pseuds/pokeasleepingsmaug
Summary: Ivar and his lover have an argument about her pregnancy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Talk of abortions.

You sat on the floor, back against the wall and head between your knees, eyes closed and trying to breathe steady. Your breakfast churned uneasily in your stomach, and you reminded yourself to release the breath you had been holding. The door slammed open and your head snapped up, your lover dragging himself over to you. His blue eyes burned with anger and despair, wrenching your heart. He held a plant out to you, slightly crushed from his grip. “Some of the servant-girls eat the plant fresh, but most make tea with it and drink it.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Ivar. What are you talking about?”

“This plant. Make a tea with it and drink it.” He eyed you dubiously. “I can make it for you, if you want.” The offer was brusque, he was not a man given to such extravagant displays of tenderness.

“For what?”

He looked at you like you were crazy, but he couldn't hide the shame, the defeat in those eyes. “The servants use it to rid their bodies of an unwanted child.” His voice was empty as the vast winter sea, and the howling of the arctic wind rushed in your blood. 

You shook your head slowly in disbelief. “No. Ivar, no, are you crazy? No. I will bear this child.” Your arms clasped protectively around your still-slender middle, and you curled your body around the tiny spark of life that flickered there. “He is bone of my bone. I feel his life in my blood. He is strong. It is a child worthy of you, I swear.”

“I cannot have children, woman!” He pounded his fist angrily against the rough wooden floor, and you recoiled, shocked at his accusation.

“Of course you can, you fool, you have gotten a child on me.”

He growled and grabbed your face, his thumb and forefinger digging painfully into your chin. He forced your eyes to meet him. “Look at me, woman. Do you really think the gods would grant me a healthy child? He is bone of my bone, and my bones are useless! I am still shocked the gods gave me to you, and now I know why. It is only to mock me. You will refuse to rid yourself of this child, and during the birth of him, the gods will rip you both from me!”He had started off quiet but grown loud until he was yelling, and you were sure all of Kattegat could hear him. 

You wrenched your face from his harsh grasp, staring defiantly back at him. “Gods, Ivar, I hate you sometimes!” 

“No, I am not finished speaking, woman!” He roared. You didn't flinch but sat back against the wall, arms still over your stomach, and allowed him to continue with a mocking nod of your head. “When my brother's daughter Siggy died, I mocked Sigurd when he told us of her death. I said nobody cared. But I did care! I cared because I envied her. The gods should have taken me! My mother was too soft, no true Viking. If she was, she would have left me out when my father took me out to die! I will not let you bear this child, who will wish every day that he had never been born!”

Anger flaring suddenly in you, your hand seemed to move of its own accord against his cheek. “Listen to me, Ivar! I would bear you an army of Ivarssons if the gods would grant it. The entire world would fear Ivar the Boneless and his sons! This is my child, and I will bear him. I will watch him grow strong like his father, strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. I will rejoice when he walks victorious across the field of battle, and I will be the proudest of mothers when he enters Valhalla.”

“None of those can be for a child of mine,” Ivar argued, quieting a little. 

“If none of those things can be for a child of yours, then how can they be for you? Can you not accept the favor of the gods?” You threw your hands in the air, getting carried away by your own exasperation. “For such a cunning man, you are fucking stupid sometimes. Obviously they had to give you a weakness, Ivar! You are too smart and too strong, for you to have working legs would be unfair to everyone else. Even boneless you are better and stronger, more fierce, than any other man. Your legs are your strength, Ivar, and you are only too blind to see it.” You gulped a deep breath, brushing angrily at the tears tracking down your cheeks. “I will skewer any man who threatens my child, including you. Make your choice. You can stay with me and raise our child,” you took one of his hands and placed it on your stomach before continuing, “or you can leave. If you go through that door though, I will kill you if you come back.” Your voice was nothing more than a furious, hissing whisper, your eyes narrow and deadly.

Ivar's hand clenched on your stomach, fingers grabbing desperately at the fabric, and he pulled you to his chest. “I am sorry, I am sorry. Bear this child, then. I will stand by you. I will defend him to my last breath. I swear it. Only forgive me.” You wrapped your arms around him to stroke his thick black hair, and said nothing about the moisture on your neck where his cheek met your skin. He seldom showed this type of emotion, and to have it pointed out would be the ultimate betrayal. 

“Throw the herb into the fire, Ivar.” You commanded, releasing him, and he obeyed.


End file.
